


Salt Road Patrol

by Mertiya



Series: Sands of Time [1]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Cute, Doomed Timelines, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Khans timeline, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4027612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her family recently killed, Anafenza is searching for a new life until such time as she can get her revenge.  A chance encounter in an oasis may brighten her path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt Road Patrol

            The glare of the sun on the sand was blinding, and Anafenza was forced to squint in order to see the rider in front of her.  As the newest recruit, with no kinsfolk left in the world other than Gvar, she felt isolated and ill at ease.  Alone, even among fellow Abzan.  She sometimes thought she could feel judgmental looks cast at her back by the other patrollers, or hear faint whispers not meant for her ears. But she never looked back to catch them—if they wished to mock her among themselves, that was their business. They were no kin of hers.

            She and Gvar had joined the patrol together, needing something to keep food in their mouths and clothes on their back.  And fighting some nameless, faceless enemy appealed to Anafenza. She could pretend it was Oret. Someday, she promised herself, she and Gvar would have their vengeance. 

            “Girl!” called one of the other members of the patrol.

            “Yes?” Anafenza asked with a sigh, half-turning to look at the speaker. It was an older woman—Gizem, the girl thought her name was.

            “We’re running low on water.  Will you fetch some?  There’s an oasis up ahead.”

            Anafenza’s gaze followed Gizem’s pointing finger, and she nodded. As the newcomer, she presumed she could expect the more irritating tasks, and she and Gvar had been sent along different routes, much to her dismay.  They would meet up again in a few days, but still his absence was surprisingly painful.  She had little patience with the dull ache stuck in her chest, but it would not respond to her repeated attempts to dislodge it.

            She was retrieving the water sacs from the main caravan when one of the other patrollers rode up beside her.  With a smirk, he jerked his chin in the direction of the oasis. “You’re not scared, are you?”

            “Scared? Why should I be scared?” Anafenza asked impatiently, detaching and moving her burden to her own mount, which bleated at her restlessly.

            “Don’t you know?  There’s a ghost in that oasis.”  The other patroller—was his name Kuzey?—adopted a low, spooky voice.  “It’s said to have been the death of a score of other patrols.  You’d best hope you see nothing of it.”

            Anafenza snorted.  While it was true that sometimes vengeful spirits wandered in lonely places, the voice he was using and her own status as the youngest patroller meant he was obviously trying to scare her.  “That would be a stupid place to get water from, then,” she said.

            “Well, Gizem thought the water would last longer than it did,” said Kuzey, with a shrug.  “Better to send you off to try for it.  If you get cursed, it’s no great loss.”

            “No, I suppose not,” Anafenza said through gritted teeth.  She swung herself back up onto her mount. “If I don’t make it back, my ghost will come for you!” she shouted at him over her shoulder as she began to ride in the direction of the oasis, feeling the need for the last word.

            It was a short ride for a single person, though it would admittedly have taken longer to divert the whole patrol.  The harsh sunlight was replaced by the shadows of the trees, and the sounds of the desert seemed subdued and muffled.  Anafenza, dismounting, felt a sudden, sharp chill run down her spine, but she hunched her shoulders and let it roll off. There was no spirit here. Just how gullible did they think she was?

            She tied her mount to a tree and knelt in front of the glimmering water, pausing to quench her own thirst before she filled the water sacs. As the cool, clear liquid ran through her fingers, a ripple toward her, as of movement on the water, caught her eye.

            She looked up, and another sudden shudder ran down her spine at the sight. There was a woman on the water, her hair, face and clothes all the same dull white.  As Anafenza watched in dismayed disbelief, the female figure moved toward her with a few careful steps, the surface of the pool barely changing as she passed across it.

            Anafenza fell backwards from her squatting position, grabbing for the curved sword at her side, but it was tangled in her legs, and she felt sudden, sharp pain in her hand as it slid along the half-drawn blade. 

            The apparition paused at the edge of the water, then squatted down and produced a small, leather pouch.  “Date?” she asked, proffering it to Anafenza.

            “Wh-what?” Anafenza asked dazedly.

            “Would you care for a date?  They’re quite good.”  The young woman—this close, it was evident that the pallor of her hair and skin was a consequence of being covered from head to foot in pale sand—took out two pieces of dried fruit. Popping one into her own mouth, she sent the other one spinning between Anafenza’s still-open lips. Automatically, the young patroller shut her mouth, the sweet taste of the date bursting over her tongue.

            As she recovered from her sudden fright, she felt irritation sweeping over her again.  Trying to repair her damaged dignity, she slowly untangled her legs, resheathed her sword, and looked down at her hand, where a shallow cut across her palm was beginning to bleed. “You startled me,” she said stiffly. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

            “I am Narset, of the Jeskai,” said the interloper.  “Did you hurt your hand?  I’m sorry.”

            “It’s nothing,” Anafenza replied, trying to hide it as she got to her feet—though, in truth, it did sting quite badly.

            “It was my fault for frightening you,” Narset responded.  “Can I try to heal you?  I know a little healing magic.”

            Anafenza, who had not had much chance to learn magic, frowned, but nodded. “Thanks,” she said gruffly.

            Narset tucked her pouch of dates into her belt, then gently took Anafenza’s clenched fist.  “You’ll have to open your hand,” she said, with a grin.  Anafenza snorted through her nose, but let her fingers slowly uncurl. The other girl crossed her legs and closed her eyes, breathing in and out deeply.  After a moment, she let her eyes open, the irises now laced in a faint pearly sheen, and took Anafenza’s hand.  “This might take a little time,” she cautioned, and Anafenza felt her hand grow warm at the touch.  A feeling like a warm, desert breeze caressed her palm as Narset stared at it intently, and then the patroller stifled an exclamation as stinging pain shot through her palm.  Blood pumped weakly for a few more seconds, and then began to clot, slowly, but much faster than it should have.

            After the clotting, the wound began to knit up, the drying blood slowly pushed toward the center of the gash as raised pink tissue followed in the wake of the warm healing.  The hand ached and stung, but after some time a scab formed across it, and Narset sat back with a gasp, sweat beading on her forehead.  “I think that’s the best I can do for now,” she panted. 

            “Thank you,” Anafenza said awkwardly.  Magic, especially healing magic, was not her strong suit, and the cut would have been a problem for several days.  She flexed her hand, which still hurt slightly, but was significantly easier to move than it would have been if it had not been healed. “I had better get water, now that I know there is no ghost,” she said.

            “No ghost?” echoed Narset curiously.

            “I suppose they were referring to you,” Anafenza returned blandly, as she moved to collect the water-skins.  “Idiots.”

            “I have only been here for a day or so,” Narset said.  “Though I have not seen much that seems out of place—only that withered tree behind you, which I suppose is odd in an oasis.”

            “What?” snapped Anafenza, whirling around.  The light of the dying sun shafted through the branches of a stunted, gnarled tree, whose leafless branches were swaying slightly in the wind. As she watched it, the sun disappeared over the horizon, and in the sudden darkness of twilight, the tree’s outline became strangely blurred.  Anafenza had to blink before she realized that there was fog rising around its base.

            “Get behind me,” she snapped, drawing her sword in one fluid motion, though she was unsure as to whether it would do any good.  She heard Narset move, and caught a glimpse of the young woman in her peripheral vision, but she couldn’t tell what the Jeskai monk was doing, and she had little attention to spare as a translucent form, glowing faintly orange, solidified from the fog around the tree. The gender of the spirit was impossible to determine, as its head and most of its face were hidden beneath a dragonscale helmet, and armor of the same material covered its chest and the top of its legs.  As it materialized, it gave vent to a strange, keening howl, and Anafenza’s grip tightened on the hilt of her curved sword.

            The attack came with blinding speed, and she barely parried in time. The ghostly blade clashed into her own sword, and, to Anafenza’s relief, did not simply pass through it. Her relief faded as she deflected it and her return slice passed through its arm without effect. She stumbled forward, suddenly off-balance, and the ghost slashed at her chest.  She managed to pull back at the last moment, but the tip of the sword trailed across the front of her torso—and it did go through her armor.  She felt a sudden shock of bitter cold as it sliced down her body, and she cried out, but brought her own sword up again and managed to knock it away.

            Panting, she staggered back a few steps.  Her head was spinning suddenly, and she was abruptly exhausted. Where was Narset? Had she fled?  Strangely, instead of a sense of abandonment at the thought, Anafenza felt a strange surge of accomplishment.  At least if she died here, she would die protecting someone. It was better than nothing.

            “Stab it!” Narset’s voice called out, and Anafenza froze, anger boiling up that the Jeskai woman had not obeyed her command.  “Stab it through the heart!”

            Her sword was not built for stabbing—it was a slashing weapon—and what Narset was saying didn’t make sense.  But—if Narset had an idea, it was more than Anafenza did.  Cursing, she dropped her sword and grabbed for the knife she also kept at her side.  Screaming a sudden, incoherent battle cry, she charged the spirit and thrust the blade into its chest.  It passed through without resistance, and her hand followed until it impacted someone else’s palm.  The spirit roared in anger, but there was a sudden feeling of heat, and then fire surged up from within it, blazing hot and red, consuming it from the inside out. In a moment, there was nothing left but ash and glowing embers floating away on the breeze.

            Anafenza blinked.  Narset stood across from her, her hand on top of Anafenza’s, sagging and breathing hard. “Thank you,” she said, managing a small smile.

            “What—did you do?” Anafenza asked.

            “I called flame from the mountains,” Narset said.  “I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t disrupted its _ki_ , however.”  She took a step forward and abruptly fell forward. Anafenza caught her, but the sudden weight was too much for the exhausted young woman, and she collapsed to her knees.  “I’m sorry,” Narset said, her voice muffled in Anafenza’s shoulder.  “I don’t think I can move anymore.”

            “I am not sure I can either,” Anafenza said tiredly.  Her chest was aching fiercely where the phantom blade had touched her.  She looked past Narset to the horizon, where the first stars were beginning to touch the sky.  There was no way she would be able to rejoin the other patrollers now, unless they came looking for her, and that was unlikely at this point.  By the time they realized she was not going to catch them up, it might very well be too dark to retrace their steps.  Well, Anafenza had spent nights in the desert before—the only difficulty was the cold.  She had a bedroll with her, but no tent, which she had left back the rest of the patrollers.  And, of course, her goat was still tethered to one of the oasis trees, shifting irritably from foot to foot.

            She glanced down at Narset, who still had not moved, but was breathing heavily against her shoulder.  “We had better sleep here for the night,” she said abruptly.

            “Yes, I suppose we do not have much choice,” Narset said.  “I have not spent a night in the desert wilderness yet, and it should be quite inter—”

            “We’ll need to share a bedroll,” Anafenza interrupted her shortly, feeling her cheeks grow oddly warm.

            “What?” Narset echoed.

            “If you have not spent a night in the naked desert, you do not understand how cold it grows,” Anafenza explained.  “Normally, a tent would protect us from the worst of the wind, but without one, we could freeze to death.”

            “I see,” said Narset, then grinned at Anafenza.  “Well, I should warn you that I thrash around, according to my dormitory mates.”

            “You can’t even move,” Anafenza pointed out.  “I doubt you’ll thrash very much tonight.”

            “Ah, I have been caught in a contradiction,” Narset sighed theatrically, but she kept smiling.  “Shall we bed down then?”

            Something in the way she said it made Anafenza give her a second look, but the Jeskai monk’s eyes were large and innocent.  Anafenza nodded.  “I’ll get the bedroll,” she said.  “We’ll be better off close to my goat as well, for more warmth.”

            “Just the sleeping companion I’ve always longed for,” Narset said cheerfully. Again, Anafenza couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, but she helped Narset slowly to her feet. The few steps over to the bedroll and her mount seemed like an eternity, but eventually the two of them collapsed beside it, and Anafenza was able to undo her bedroll and lay it down. Narset wriggled tiredly into it and then slid to the side to make room for Anafenza.

            Anafenza got in awkwardly as well, trying not to stick her elbows and knees into the other girl, but there wasn’t much room.  “Um,” she said.  “Sorry.”

            “It might be easier—if you don’t mind—one of us could put her arms around the other,” said Narset, showing only a trace of hesitation.

            Anafenza felt herself blushing again.  “Well, yes, I guess you’re correct,” she mumbled.  She didn’t understand why she felt so awkward.  They were both female, after all.  It wasn’t as if this was a young man, which might have been seen as more forbidden. But two young women wouldn’t—

            Anafenza wriggled uncomfortably.  There was a small voice whispering in the back of her mind that she had heard of some young women who _would_ , even if it wasn’t seen as correct behavior.  But that wasn’t the point.  The point was that they needed to get some sleep, and Narset was right that embracing would be more comfortable.  “All right,” she said, rolling over and around. Narset wriggled in her arms, her back pressing into Anafenza’s breasts, and Anafenza drew her knees up into the space behind Narset’s legs. 

            Silence fell.  Anafenza had the odd feeling that she and her strange new companion were alone in the world together, floating in a warm void with only the sound of the soft wind around them. It reminded her of a time when her kin was still alive, when she could be rocked to sleep inside their wooden caravan to the knowledge of her parents and sisters and cousins sleeping or going about their lives outside.  Strange. She shook her head sleepily, and breathed.  There was a strong scent of sandalwood…

            Anafenza woke briefly from a deep slumber to discover that Narset had stirred in her sleep and taken hold of the hands crossed over the front of her chest. She yawned and snuggled back into the Jeskai girl.  It felt nice.

~

            She woke to the crackle of a fire and the scraping of metal on metal and looked over to see that Narset was expertly frying something that smelled and looked delicious.  Anafenza’s stomach grumbled, but she got to her feet quickly.  She would have to do her best to catch up with the patrol today and would not have much time to spare. 

            “Good morning!” Narset said.  “I hope you’re feeling better?”

            “Yes, I am, thank you,” Anafenza answered.  “I can see you certainly are.”

            “I enjoy being out on my own,” Narset said.  “It always seems to lift my spirits.”

            The statement seemed strange to Anafenza, who had up until recently always been happily surrounded by her kin, but she couldn’t deny how pleased Narset seemed. “I can’t say the same is true for me,” she responded, slightly gruff.

            “It’s not for everyone,” agreed Narset.  “Your journey is your own, and nobody else’s.”

            Anafenza, who had almost expected an argument, was taken aback once more. “Oh—er,” she said. She shuffled awkwardly. “I had better take my leave,” she said eventually.

            “I thought you might need to leave,” Narset said thoughtfully. “You can take the first batch of breakfast with you and eat it while you travel.”

            “Thank you,” Anafenza said again.  She felt stiff and strange as she packed up her things and made ready to depart. Taking the piece of food that Narset handed her, loosely wrapped in a leaf, she was preparing to swing herself up onto her goat when something made her pause.  She turned back.  “Do you—think I’ll ever see you again?” she blurted out, wondering where the impetus to speak had come from.

            Narset frowned seriously.  “I don’t know,” she said after a minute.  “I can’t see into the future, you know.”

            “Of course,” Anafenza said, brushing an angry hand through her short hair. “I shouldn’t have—”

            “But I’d like to,” Narset continued.  “And I like to think that what we want is more important than any kind of fate or destiny.”

            Anafenza wasn’t sure she agreed.  Personal desires could be dangerous, though they were useful in moderation. But somehow, she wanted to agree. “Then—I’ll see you again,” she said firmly, making a decision.  Narset flashed her a brilliant smile, then leaned forward suddenly and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

            “I look forward to it,” she said.

            Anafenza, face flaming, vaulted onto her goat and rode away, refusing to let herself glance back.  She felt—different.  For the first time since her family had died, she was hoping for something other than vengeance.

 


End file.
